


stargazing

by psycho_raven



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: ... for now, Backstory, Canon Compliant, M/M, Relationship Study, or more like relationship theories, that one canon death, the aaravos/viren part is subtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22509613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psycho_raven/pseuds/psycho_raven
Summary: Aaravos finds himself entertained for the first time in... how old is the universe, even?or, Aaravos was the fire and Ziard Prometheus. Of course, they both had to pay.
Relationships: Aaravos/Viren (The Dragon Prince), Aaravos/Ziard (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 49





	stargazing

It begins like a fairy tale because it certainly is one.   
  
Aaravos starts observing the humans out of boredom and curiosity. Their struggles and passions easily broke by the cruelty of nature. And oh, they broke so easily that watching them becomes a little like gambling, trying to guess who will endure longer. Whose spirit will not be defeated.   
  
In the beginning, he thinks he will get bored again within a couple of years, a decade maybe. The humans will perish and he will have to move on to another activity. Maybe birds, this time.   
  
But centuries pass and they do not. They die young. Illness and hunger devour them and yet they continue to try, in a world that insists on crushing them like bugs, the humans find beauty, and hope, and art.   
  
Aaravos discovers himself entertained for the first time in... how old is the universe, even?   
  
The humans results to be a lot of fun. The other elves ignore them and the dragons find delight in terrorizing them. But Aaravos is soon captivated by their will.   
  
The not so hopeful part is that humans are easily replaced. They try leaving little traces of their existence but are quickly forgotten for the group to keep moving.   
  
They act as a collective, and it's the entire human race that has caught his attention. But there isn't one remarkable human yet. Someone worth knowing.  
  
It's a pity, Aaravos thinks. He would like to talk with someone. 

  
  


* * *

  
The humans keep growing until they don't.   
  
Aaravos surprises himself when he notices how this time he isn't so eager to just move on to the next hobby. Birds don't seem so interesting now.   
  
_Only a little push,_ he thinks. But they are tired and afraid, confined to the comfort of their little villages, far away from the dangers of the unknown. But without chaos and danger, there isn't knowledge and learning.   
  
So Aaravos starts looking for something. Some motivation. At this pace, they will never rise as equals with the other races, and Aaravos is already playing favorites.   
  
He likes to win, Aaravos thinks. Without knowing if there could be any other reason for his investment.  
  
That's when he finds him. 

* * *

  
  
The wizard, that's how he calls him first. He could also be a scientist or a scholar, but Aaravos likes the magic's touch on ' _wizard_ '.   
  
The wizard, then, doesn't fear the chaos nor the unknown. He moves farther from the village, from his fellows' humans brothers and sisters, just because of the curiosity and the bubbling need of knowing.   
  
But he also comes back with that knowledge and gives it to the community. And they keep growing. And they live a little more, free from diseases just because the wizard found the correct herb, smashed the right bug and mixed it all together.   
  
_That's it._ Aaravos exclaims and that night the stars shine brighter. _He is the one who will make it._  
  
Him, with his passionate temperament and inquisitive mind. Searching for answers to question no one has made before. He is the answer himself and Aaravos is fascinated. Captivated.   
  
He lives more than any other human and buries many of the brothers and sisters of his village. He fights and falls but never breaks. Even when no one understands his ways, he keeps his head high.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
That night, everyone talks about falling stars.  
  
And with the blink of one, Aaravos descends from the midnight sky.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
"Who are you?" The wizard speaks with caution, fascination, and curiosity. "I have never seen an elve like you."  
  
"And tell me, my friend, have you seen any elves?"  
  
"... I have. On my travels. But they never talked to me like that. Humans are no friends for them."  
  
"I fear they haven't been paying attention if that's the case."   
  
"To what?"  
  
"To all of you. Your struggles, your passions, the way you all refuse to perish in a world that denies you. That refuses to look you in the eyes."  
  
"Ha," The wizard exclaims, doing exactly that. Looking at him in the eyes as if Aaravos wasn't a creature out of this world, with magic beyond his imagination. "I will make them."  
  
Aaravos smiles. The way his lips curve and his eyes shine for the first time in ages, sparks a curse and a charm at the same time.   
  
  


* * *

  
His name is Ziard.

It has a good ring. It tastes good on Aaravos' lips.   
  


* * *

  
  
"Come here, Aaravos."  
  
The human talks to him with warm familiarity. Aaravos has been teaching Ziard for a while now, and he does see admiration and awe on the wizard's gaze, recognizing the immense power of the elve. But there is also a closeness Aaravos has never felt before.   
  
He savors it. He wants to keep it to himself forever.   
  
"What is it, my friend? Do you have problems with the new spell?"  
  
"Of course not. But it's almost twilight and I have never seen you eat anything."  
  
"I told you, we don't have the same needs as humans."  
  
"I'm not talking about needs. I'm talking about enjoying the flavor of somethings. It is one of the reasons we humans struggle so much to keep being alive. Because there are flavor and joy in this world, Aaravos. If it was plain and boring, it wouldn't be worth it. We wouldn't put such a fight."   
  
Aaravos doesn't have an answer for this. So he does what he has been told and come closer while Ziard takes a knife and peels what seems to be a red juicy fruit.   
  
"This is your reason to live and fight, wizard? A fruit?"   
  
"It's called an apple. Take a bite and you will see. It's also my favorite."  
  
Aaravos doesn't wait for the wizard to give him the fruit's slice. He takes the human's hands between his owns and eats from them.   
  
"It tastes crisp... and so sweet."   
  
"Does it seem reason good enough for you?"  
  
They stay close like that. Hands together as elves and humans' hands have never been. The sweet flavor lingering on their lips, waiting for another taste.   
  
"It does."   
  
  


* * *

  
  
"What is this?" Ziard asks, the infliction of his voice hiding the exact amount of emotion he thinks is necessary to not sound so excited.  
  
In front of him, Araavos extends his arms offering the wizard a staff as the wizard has never seen before.   
  
"A gift, of course."  
  
"That's not what am I asking, Aaravos." A moment of doubt. "I hope is not a farewell gift."  
  
"Of course not, my friend. There is no departing to be expected soon. This is a graduation gift. Everything from now, you can do it on your own. I have taught you everything I know."   
  
"What? No. You must be joking. There is so much I still don't know..."   
  
Aaravos laughs, the tireless thirst of Ziard always humors him. But he speaks with honesty when he answers.  
  
"From now, we will learn it together."  
  
The raw power that the staff exhales is like pure electricity on the wizard's skin. The staff feels alive, breathing between his hands. With the sensation pulsing on the tips of his fingers he gives Aaravos a grateful kiss, charged with magic.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
"Look at her, Aaravos!"   
  
Ziard extends his arms, trying to catch the night in an embrace. He stays proud and tall on the highest mountain, in front of what used to be a village but is now a city that extends itself between forests and rivers, a testimony of the human will conquering nature. Conquering their own fears.   
  
And in front of all of it, the wizard stands with pride in his eyes. Like humans gaze upon their children. But the wizard never married. Instead of kids, there were magic, long days studying, and step by step the art of building what he now contemplates with such joy.   
  
There was Aaravos, too. In the middle of everything. Endless nights talking about science, magic, and life. There was always Aaravos.   
  
"Her?"  
  
"Yes. The city you helped to build. Her name is Elarion and you are her midnight star."  
  
"You give me too much credit," Aaravos says, flying around him like a curious bird. He tries to dismiss it, but there is also joy and pride in his voice.  
  
"You won't take the title, my friend?"  
  
"With one condition only.  
  
For me to be also _your_ midnight star."   
  
The deal is sealed with a kiss, at the top of the highest mountain. On the most important day of humanity.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
Oh, if only someone had warned him...   
  
Aaravos would have done everything all over again. Every time.   
  
  


* * *

  
"What have you DONE!?" Aaravos screams infuriated with a rage that makes him feel naked, his skin open and his flesh alive and bleeding. He doesn't bleed as humans do. Stars don't bleed. And yet he can feel the blood dripping from his chest.   
  
"You dare to ask that to me?" The Dragon answers, the fresh wound on his eyes still with traces of _his_ magic. But he is no more. Neither is the city of Elarion. Only flames linger on the once flourished lands, now dry and sterile.   
  
"You traitor, offering those puny humans your gifts and your cursed magic."   
  
Elarion is no more, but her midnight star shines with a fury that makes him the only star on the sky that night.   
  
"You know NOTHING of the humans! They only wanted to learn, to live less miserable lives while you all hoard all the knowledge, you arrogant selfish creatures!"   
  
"Don't tell me you wanted to help, Aaravos. Don't make me laugh! Did you care for their little existence? For the dull life of that dark magician? A lie! You were only bored! And now you lash on me for getting rid of your useless pets!"  
  
Aaravos wrath is cold as the winter that could put an end of all life. It freezes everything around them. The wings of the dragons that fly near, waiting for the attack sign, are frozen and broken in an instant.   
  
"He spoke highly of you." The dragon continues. "Even on his last moment, that human kept fighting. I have to praise that he didn't give you away."  
  
The flames that cover Elarion are replaced by pure ice. A testament for a love lost. A graveyard for that little moment on an eternal existence that was worth living.   
  
It's only with the arrival of Avizandum that Sol Regem achieves to stop Aaravos. Yet the ice never melts.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
In his imprisonment, Aaravos reads.   
  
He knows centuries have gone by, almost in an instant. He learns from books that keep rewriting themselves that the humans live, still. Once again private of knowledge and magic, but alive.   
  
He also learns that there are still some of them that practice the dark arts. The little testimony, the last trace of the existence of the one he once loved.   
  
It's curious, Aaravos notices. How with so much time in between, with so much death, chaos and tragedy, how clear some things became.  
  
Of course, it was love. It would be almost funny if it wasn't such a tragedy. If it didn't fuel his desire for revenge even more. Humans die easily, he always knew that. But he won't forgive the arrogance, the misery of their insolent souls.   
  
Aaravos keeps reading, trying to learn about a world that keeps moving outside. He also tries to search for him, a word of gratitude to the men who gave his life for humanity, who tried to teach them and died for it. He, who crafted with his own hands the dark magic that gave life to the first city of the world.  
  
But Ziard doesn't appear anywhere. Completely erased from history. A name that no one remembers anymore, forgotten.   
  
It's like killing him again. Like losing him again.  
  
Aaravos closes violently the last book read. It makes sense, there weren't survivors the night of the attack. It doesn't matter. His is an existence that will never perish, and with him, those memories will live forever.   
  
But Xadia and the Dragons? They won't.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
He will do it again. But better.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
It ends as a cautionary tale because it's also one.   
  
Aaravos watches him from the mirror, with caution this time. Viren wields the staff with confidence and always keeps his head high. It makes something in Aaravos' stomach twist. It reminds him of the sweet flavor of apples.   
  
He pushes the thought away, concentrated in the plan his head starts to build. The destruction of Xadia. The little bit of justice he can finally obtain.   
  
But then, Viren says something-- The exact tone of his voice. The way his left eyebrow arches when questioning something.The way he always has a question. How Viren keeps searching for answers even when everything is against him.   
  
Suddenly, Aaravos' confinement feels a lot more claustrophobic. It makes him miss the forests, the rivers, the city he made his own.   
  
But he is a patient creature, so he waits, observes, and keeps every little detail for himself

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so I have a lot of theories about Aaravos being the one who taught Ziard dark magic. I /had/ to write it and make a tragic romance of it.


End file.
